Chapter Seven
Emma
Everyone leaves but us. The vet takes Athena and a few of the other dogs that require extensive medical treatment. I walk a few of the feistier animals to calm them before we leave.
I realize it’s quiet for the first time since we arrived. No dogs barking or snapping. No people giving orders. No police sirens. No crying. I begin to organize the paperwork when I hear a whimper in the distance. A shiver runs down my spine as I follow the noise. I stop where I thought it came from, but there is nothing there.
“Hello?”
It must be my imagination, but the plea comes once more. I search again, only to find I’m alone. Finally, I look down. I’m standing on a metal grate. Trapped below me is a small puppy.
Kneeling, I try to get a better look. “How did you get there, boy?”
The pup looks up at me with hopeless eyes. I follow the grate and spot the opening at the other end.
I hear Aiden loading the other dogs into their crates. “Come here, quick.”
“What is it? We’re ready to roll,” he says, approaching me.
“There’s a dog inside of this thing.”
He crouches next to me and shines his flashlight into the dark tunnel. “He’s pretty far in.”
“We have to get him out.”
“I can’t fit in there,” he says.
“I can.”
“No.” He stands, going around to the metal covering where I first saw the dog, and pulls on it. “It’s welded shut.”
“Then we have to go in. It’s the only way.”
“Too dangerous.” He points to the metal grate. “This is a drainage ditch. It’s made to divert water. It could be raining miles from here and this thing will fill up.”
“But it’s not full now.”
“I’ll call someone who’s qualified,” he says, taking out his cell phone as he kneels again next to me where I’m still crouched by the entrance to the culvert.
“Someone who’s qualified to fit in a tunnel? Why don’t you have any faith in me?”
He regards me for a minute. “This isn’t the time to act like a hero.”
“You just said this thing can fill up. He might die in there. We can save him.”
The look on his face tells me he’s not going to change his mind. Something snaps inside of me. I refuse to let this puppy die. Not when I can do something.
This isn’t smart. It’s reckless and stupid, but I don’t give a damn. For once, I trust my reflexes. I snatch the flashlight from Aiden’s hand and go in, army-crawling my way toward to dog.
“Emma!” Aiden’s voice echoes toward me. He wraps his hands around my ankles.
“No farther than this.”
“I need to get closer.” I try to wiggle free of his grasp, but Aiden tightens his grip.
“Give him some food. Let him come to you.”
The space is tight, but I manage to reach into my pocket and take out the bag of doggie treats I was given when we got here. I throw some at the pup, but he doesn’t budge. He blinks and cowers further back. His fear is stronger than his hunger.
“He won’t come to me.”
“Just talk to him, Emma. Earn his trust.”
I place the flashlight next to me. “Come here, boy. Have faith in me. I won’t hurt you.” I reach my hand toward him. The tunnel is damp and musky and cramped. I don’t even want to think about what might be lurking in here.
“You have to come out now.”
“No.”
“I have a snare. We can try that.”
There is no way we’ll be able to snare this pup. I continue to talk to him, trying to coax him gently. I have no idea what to say, so I talk about random things, keeping my voice soft and encouraging. I tell him about Dunsmuir and the world’s best water. About how nice Mac is and how happy he will be at the Sanctuary. Then I beg him once more to have faith in me. Finally, he inches his way forward, nibbling on the closest offering of food.
“That’s it, pretty baby. Come here.”
Cold liquid pools beneath me, soaking my jeans and T-shirt. The stink of it is almost unbearable. The dog barks and retreats further.
“Emma, it’s raining. You need to get out now.”
The soft thud of raindrops falls against the metal. “It’s just sprinkling.”
“It doesn’t matter. All the water from the hill will fill this thing up in minutes.”
Then he’ll drown. I crawl farther in.
“Dammit, Emma!”
My body floats as the water rises in the tunnel. “Come quick,” I call one last time.
I gulp in some air and hold my breath. The water rises around me. I can’t hear Aiden’s voice or even see the pup anymore. Then I am pushed out. No, not pushed, pulled out by Aiden.
I gulp the air, coughing and sputtering while he rubs my back.
“Slow breaths,” he says. He holds my hair back. “You’re okay now. You’re safe.”
“He’s not. I didn’t get him!”
I’m about to tell him I have to go back in, when the pup dashes onto my lap. It’s tiny, sopping wet, and just about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Looks like you did,” Aiden says, a genuine smile crossing his lips.
We stare at the little fur ball in awe, our hands entwining as we pet it. For once, my tears are those of joy. They run down my face as the rain becomes heavier.
“He’s really small. Must have been the runt of the litter,” I say.
Aiden lifts the dog. “She. It’s a she. Don’t worry, Emma, she may be little, but she’s incredible all the same.” He stares at me as he says it. “Let’s get the two of you cleaned up.”
We get her inside the truck. I dry her off with one towel while Aiden takes another and places it around my shoulders. I’m a soaked, muddy mess, but the sheer adrenaline coursing through me is purifying.
“Is she hurt?” I ask.
“No, she looks good. Small but healthy.”
“Thank God.”
“Are you hurt?” Before I can answer, he looks me over, taking my hands in his, checking for any rips in my clothes.
“I’m fine. Really.”
He continues his assessment until he is satisfied. “You should have listened to me.”
“I’m sorry, but…”
Aiden shakes his head, cutting me off. “You could have drowned in that tunnel. The dog could have bitten you. Or you could have cut yourself.”
“I’ve had a tetanus shot.”
“Or about a million other horrible things could have happened to you.”
“They didn’t, though.”
“Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again. It was a stupid thing to do.”
I narrow my eyes, ready to go to battle with him, but the fear on his face quiets me into submission. “It’s over. I’m fine.” I hold up the pup. “We’re both fine.”
He exhales a long breath. “You did good today, Cooper. What do you want to name her?”
“You’re letting me pick?”
“You rescued her, so you get to choose her name.”
I think back to what Mac said about the land at the sanctuary. What I asked this little dog to do. In fact, what I asked Aiden to do when I went into the tunnel.
“Faith. Her name is Faith.”